But screw up your courage to the sticking place and we shall not fail.
I think I’m afraid that I may have found perfection in an extremely unexpected place and in a particularly paradoxical way. I’m afraid I could believe in fate or karma or – gasp – God. It’s just too bizarre to be slapped in the face with a brilliantly gorgeous answer to a whole bunch of questions, asked just days earlier. I’m afraid of the unpredictability of the future. Shut up brain. Start living in the now, or you’ll never really exist.
Too many emotions are crashing against the floodgates of my self-control. I’ve always been so good at keeping everything at bay; my boxes have helped me appear sane. Trying to write with my sister’s eloquently raw emotion seems to bring out more real person feelings than I ever thought I had. Am I starting to care? Should I try and stop?
It’s only been 36 fucking hours, Kelsey. Seriously, hold it together.
Do I need a hug? Have I turned into a disgustingly hopeless romantic or am I just absolutely bat-shit crazy?
I’m doing it again, I’m finding reasons to run, reasons to keep being so apathetic, reasons to not try for something I might actually believe in. I’m a repeat relationship apathy offender with the recidivism rate of a psychopath scoring 40 on the PCL-R. I really need to start believing in the ink under my skin, don’t I. Perhaps the years that have passed since I got tattooed have made me less enthused to try in anything besides school and sports. Or, perhaps, I had to be so indifferent with everyone else so I could find someone like this. No. That’s irrational. Isn’t it?
The more I learn about the world, the more I think that our simple scientific answers aren't capable of explaining everything. Does that apply to this?
Biology explains the how, but love explains the why.
I don’t think I’m good enough. I don’t think I’m intelligent enough. I don’t think I’m pretty enough. I don’t think I’m worldly enough. Christ, am I even a real woman of real substance? Maybe these doubts are just another defense mechanism. Probably so, considering my track record for keeping myself at bay. Therefore, I think it’s finally time to write an authoritative letter (deep breath in):
Dear uncertainties,
You’ve overstayed your welcome; kindly see yourselves to the door.
Sincerely,
Intriguingly Excited
 |
| Ok, I'll jump. |
